


Dean Drabble

by Hunter_inthe_tardis



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunter_inthe_tardis/pseuds/Hunter_inthe_tardis
Summary: Take this where you may. Just tag me if you build on it





	Dean Drabble

Green light from the alarm clock softly glowed across the room, bathing everything in soft emerald shadows. Next to you Dean softly snored away, one arm draped across his face, the other sprawled beneath your pillow. You watched him for a moment, envying the rest he was getting. You knew he was making up for lost sleep, he never slept well out on a hunt, especially when you joined him. It was his begrudging compromise when you had decided to make things “official”; you were still going to hunt, and you would hunt together from time to time, just like it had been from the beginning. You knew he didn’t sleep well on hunts regardless of whether you or Sam went with him, but it as worse when he had one or both of you to worry about. Back at the bunker, he would sleep 12 hours a day between hunts, relaxed knowing that you all were mostly safe.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t been sleeping well in weeks. Not for lack of exertion or tiredness; you just hadn’t been able to sleep well. Feeling tired and dragging all day, you’d lay down at night to doze off and suddenly jolt awake 30 minutes later, then be in for a restless night of feeling like you had just fallen asleep only to wake up suddenly. Your dreams had been weird too. Not like demonic “oh no, here’s the next big thing” weird, but just… weird. People you hadn’t thought of in years played cameo roles in places from your previous life, before hunting. The elementary school you attended for two years, the stage of the high school auditorium where your drama club had met, the coffee shop you had studied in during undergraduate, and weirder less familiar places like the friend’s house you had visited once, or a hiking trail you discovered with your dog. None of it was scary or foreboding, just out of sync with your life now.

Giving up on sleep for the night, you glanced at the clock. Four ten in the morning. Fantastic. Slowly, rolling gently so as not to disturb Dean, you climbed out of bed. Grabbing his t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers from the laundry pile, neither of you had taken the time to fold laundry since returning from the hunt yesterday and you had left your load in the dryer, you pulled them on as you creaked open the door to your room. Tip-toeing down the hall, you passed Sam’s door to hear him snoring like a freight train. A smile touched your lips, as you thought of how indignant Sam would be if you told him that he, in fact, was he the louder snorer of the two brothers. 

The low grade headache that seemed to be a new constant in your life grew in intensity, creating a not so pleasant feeling of pressure waves building in your ear drums, and washing away your amusement at Sam’s log sawing abilities. Heading to the kitchen, you decided to try drinking some water and taking some acetaminophen.

Empty beer bottles were scattered across the countertop, from the pack you and the boys shared last night. Well the boys more than you, you’d taken a couple sips from your normally favorite brew, only to find that it tasted weird and put you off. So there your one beer sat, still mostly full. Dean had given you the side eye when you set it down explaining that you were “Just not feeling it tonight, I guess.” You’d never been a big drinker, but you did like to have a couple after finishing a hunt and getting back to the relative safety of of the bunker. Dean had jokingly placed a hand against your forehead and stated “Sweetheart, you must be feeling pretty sick if your passing on beer.” 

You shrugged and kissed his cheek. “I am pretty beat, I think I’m just fighting off some virus, though. I’m gonna head to bed.” 

You squeezed Sam’s shoulder as you walked by, not missing the look that passed between the boys. You hoped they wouldn’t let their paranoia get the best of them and spend the rest of the night researching what would only turn out to be a common cold and not in fact, a demon borne illness.

***

Four hours later and searching for water and pain relief, you pulled the farm brewed apple cider from the fridge. The same apple cider you’d made the boys pull over to buy earlier that weekend after your hunt. You had seen the sign and suddenly craved it, and made the boys take a break for you.

As you poured the cider into a pan to warm it, rustling sounded from behind you. Unsurprised, you turned to see Castiel. 

“You can’t sleep.”

You nodded.

“And your hungry”

“Yep” you responded.

“You came here for water and pain relief but grabbed the sweat beverage that has neither for those properties.”

“I guess”

“You also are avoiding alcohol.”

“Yes.”

“Does Dean know?”

“...I hate having an angel friend.”

“So he doesn’t. Why are you afraid to tell him?”

You sucked air in, and started to explain “Dean is complicated. He loves the world and he wants to take care of the people in it, but he doesn’t want to add extra people to it, he has enough to be responsible to…”

“Maybe you should let me make my own choices.” Dean stepped out from behind Castiel. “I’m here for you.”


End file.
